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  We reach the bright blue wooden community centre where Gifty teaches. My plan is to show Gifty the map and see if she can read it. Emanuel will be mad, but I’ll tell Gifty it’s just a game, not real treasure.

  I just hope she can figure out where in the dump this treasure was buried.

  But Gifty isn’t at the community centre. There are families on mattresses here, cooking waakye – rice and beans – over a portable stove. Emanuel asks for some. He gets an earful of abuse but nothing for his stomach.

  “Gifty lives nearby,” I tell him. “We’ll find her.”

  “This is bull,” says Emanuel. “I’m getting someone else to help me.”

  I grab his arm. “Do that and I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing,” I hiss. “You’ll get lots more help – they’ll dig up the treasure and bury you in the hole!”

  Emanuel breaks from my grip and pushes me against a wall that creaks under my weight. Someone shouts from the other side. Emanuel lifts his fist like he’s going to hit me.

  Then we see a kid has come out of the community centre holding a small bowl of waakye. She’s offering it to Emanuel, looking at him with these big scared eyes.

  The family must have changed their minds, and now Emanuel does too. He doesn’t hit me. He takes the bowl and scoops out the rice with one hand. I snatch the bowl from him and pick out the last grains. Then I hand it back to the little girl and thank her.

  Emanuel gives her a big fake smile and says, “Tell your mum it tasted like crap.”

  She shrugs and skips off to do just that. Me and Emanuel, we run away fast. We zigzag along the maze of streets, laughing. It’s broken the tension between us. And as we catch our breaths, it hits me how lonely I’ve been. It hits me harder than Emanuel could. Maybe.

  Then I hear Gifty’s raised voice saying, “I’m not hiding it for you.”

  “Just a couple of days, Gifty,” a man replies.

  “No,” Gifty snaps. “Not even a couple of minutes.”

  “We’re family!” the man protests.

  “I knew there was a reason I don’t like you,” Gifty spits back. There’s a clatter on the steps, and suddenly there she is. Gifty normally looks so cool, but she seems scared and upset now. Her lips are pressed in a tight line. Then she sees me and Emanuel, and it’s like she was thirsty and someone threw her water.

  “Boys,” Gifty cries. “Theo and …?”

  “Emanuel,” I tell her.

  “Well, it’s about time you showed up for your lesson,” Gifty goes on. She gives me a look that says, Back me up. “It’s in my room today, come on. Up the stairs.”

  Emanuel’s already opening his mouth to argue, but he shuts up as a tall skinny man in his twenties skips lightly down the stairs. He has a brown paper package under one arm and his hair is razored. He wears an LA Lakers basketball shirt. He’s leaning to one side, like his head’s too heavy for his body.

  “Hey, boys,” the man says. “I’m Gifty’s cousin Sammy.” When he grins at us, it’s like one of the wild dogs in the dump baring its teeth. “She’ll be with you just as soon as we sort out our business.”

  “We have no business,” Gifty insists.

  “I don’t understand how my cousin can teach you anything,” Sammy says. “See, she never learns …” He notices Emanuel properly and his face twists into a frown. “Hey. You look familiar.”

  Emanuel looks away. “Not me. I’m not from round here.”

  “Wait, I got it,” Sammy says, nodding. “He called you Emanuel? You’ve gotta be Morgan Owusu’s kid brother!”

  “Nah,” Emanuel says. He’s looking so scared he must be glad he’s standing in the gutter, cos it won’t matter if he wets himself. “That’s not me.”

  “You could be twins, man,” Sammy goes on, still nodding, still smiling. “It’s got to be you. So, is Morgan in town? Sure would like to see him again. I’ve been worried about his health.”

  The way Sammy says it puts a chill down me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Emanuel. I glance at Gifty and we both know he’s totally lying.

  Sammy’s smile is so wide it’s almost splitting his face in two. “Teach this one well, cousin,” he says. “Think he needs some wisdom.” Then Sammy turns and saunters away. “See ya.”

  I’m not sure which of us he’s talking to.

  Pretty soon Sammy’s swallowed by the shadows.

  “Well,” says Gifty. “I don’t know what that was about, but you took the heat off me, anyway. Thanks.”

  “Was that dude right?” I ask Emanuel. “Is Morgan your brother?”

  Emanuel nods slowly. “Is your cousin in a gang?” he asks Gifty. “You know. Criminals?”

  “Sammy has friends that I don’t like much,” Gifty says carefully. “But I never met your brother, Emanuel. Maybe he’s the exception.”

  “It didn’t sound like Sammy and Morgan were friends to me,” I say, and feel a little thrill down my back. If Morgan was in a gang, maybe he really was rich and did own all those motorbikes. Maybe this treasure is stolen – then burying it would make sense. Morgan was waiting till the heat was off to collect it.

  I suddenly realise that even a quarter of this treasure could really be worth a fortune.

  “Anyway, what are you doing in Old Fadama?” Gifty asks.

  “We came to see you,” I tell her. “We need a witness.”

  “We don’t,” Emanuel mutters. But Sammy has scared some of the fight from him.

  “Well, come in,” Gifty says. She goes up the stairs to the first floor. I pull Emanuel up after her.

  I’m impressed that Gifty has a room all of her own. It’s small and square. Someone’s painted a mural on the wall; I think it’s meant to be the Makola food market. Her thin mattress is too big for the room and so the bottom end curls up against the wall. There’s a lamp, and a dresser for her clothes, and a hole in the floor where part of a floorboard’s been taken out. A hiding place.

  I see she has some money tucked inside there. She puts back the floorboard fast and sits cross-legged on it.

  “What did Sammy want?” I ask her.

  “To hide something,” says Gifty. “Don’t ask. I don’t want to get involved and neither do you.” She brightens and adds, “Now, why don’t you explain what all this is about?”

  “It’s about a map,” I say. “I want … um … a second opinion. Show her, Emanuel.”

  Slowly, he pulls out the handkerchief and passes it to Gifty.

  She studies it. “Where did you get this?”

  “Found it,” says Emanuel.

  “It’s just a game,” I add.

  “Good job,” Gifty says with a laugh. “Because if this shows treasure, it’s in a bad spot.” She taps at the scrap of fabric. “The X here is in line with that old Aoli Tomato Paste sign on Hansen Road.”

  So that’s what the words say! I think, then say quickly, “I thought so too,” as Emanuel shoots me a sharp look. “Yeah, that really big sign on the scaffolding. A cute tomato with eyes. Like a landmark.”

  “So why is that a bad spot for treasure?” Emanuel barks, impatient.

  “As more and more waste comes in each year, so the dump gets bigger,” Gifty explains. “It spreads out along the lagoon. A couple of years ago, this X would’ve been on a patch of wasteland on the northern strip. But you can’t reach it now. The dump has spread out too far. If there really is something there, it’s probably sitting under three tons of broken microwaves.” Gifty offers the map back to me with a shrug. “Your treasure’s become a part of Trashland.”

  CHAPTER 5

  X the Unknown

  So early the next morning me and Emanuel are standing where X marks the spot. Well, maybe. It’s a pretty big area. We can see the big tomato paste sign in the distance across the street.

  Gifty told us that the map says the X is 155 steps south-east from the sign and then 30 steps south when you hit the sandbank. But the area has changed since Morgan made his map. There are f
ences up and piles of crap everywhere, so it’s hard to know where to start digging. We could be way out.

  That smiling tomato on the sign looks like it’s laughing at us. I want to squash it.

  Gifty was wrong about the microwaves at least. This part of Trashland has been taken over by a gang of burners and it’s covered in big piles of electronics – everything from stereo systems to air-conditioning units. Some guys are breaking them open and pulling out the coloured spaghetti of cables and wiring. The wires get looped up and hung on the end of a rake, then slung into a fire.

  Thick black clouds of stinking smoke billow and blow across the dump like swarms of flies. The smoke actually helps cover up the sharp sewage smell from the lagoon, so maybe it’s a blessing. Kind of.

  Me and Emanuel, we both have shovels. We borrowed them from Mr Ghazi. I said we wanted to dig a bit deeper for more metal. He didn’t even charge us. He just smiled and said he liked to help hardworking businessmen.

  Emanuel doesn’t give off that hardworking vibe. He’s leaning on his shovel and moaning. “We don’t stand a chance,” he says. “We’re never gonna find Morgan’s treasure.”

  “If we can’t, then Morgan’s screwed,” I remind him. “You told me that without being able to pay for doctors he’ll die.”

  Emanuel doesn’t answer. I look all around. The cute tomato on the sign stays smiling in the face of that black fog as it gusts across the food market.

  I bring out my magnet and say, “We might as well start searching.”

  “Are you an infant?” Emanuel asks, knocking the magnet out of my hands. “It’s no good. That fire there could be burning on top of it. Or it’s under that mountain of broken crap.” He points to the sprawling heap of electronics.

  “Fine. You give up then,” I say, and pick up my magnet. “All the more treasure for me when I find it.”

  “It’s not yours.” Emanuel tries to bash away my magnet again, but I keep a good grip on it.

  “Don’t be a jackass,” I tell him.

  Emanuel’s looking around as if worried we’re being watched. He was like that all last night too. He didn’t want to talk about the stuff with Sammy. But he stayed awake like he was on guard duty. I woke when it was still dark and saw Emanuel had fallen asleep over the chicken coop.

  “Have you seen Sammy anywhere?” he asks now. “I thought I saw him earlier.”

  “No,” I say, and glance round automatically. “You think Sammy will come after you to get at Morgan?”

  No answer.

  “Is that why you were awake last night?” I ask. “Is that why you want to give up – in case it puts Morgan in danger?”

  “Sammy’s never gonna find Morgan,” Emanuel mutters.

  “And we’ll never find his treasure if we don’t even try.” I nudge him. “So … try?”

  Emanuel nods reluctantly.

  The burners haven’t noticed the two of us standing here yet. I try to act like I own the place and swagger to the nearest patch of dirt. I start sweeping the earth with my magnet.

  It’s a strong magnet, but how deep is Morgan’s stuff buried? If I have no luck, I’ll dig off the topsoil with my shovel and try again. I try to go slow, hold the magnet loose, ready to react to the tiniest movement.

  “Hey!”

  I jump out of my skin. The burners are looking over.

  “What the hell?” one guy shouts at me. “This turf is taken.”

  “Go home to your mummy,” yells another. He throws a rock at me. I jump away and just about avoid it. Another rock sails after it.

  “It’s no good,” Emanuel calls. He’s already stalking away.

  “We’ll be back!” I shout at the guys, but they just laugh. I guess I don’t blame them, looking at me trying to act all fierce.

  But I’m not giving up. Screw them.

  Nothing has ever felt as important as this.

  *

  It’s back to work for me. The old everyday work, filling my sack with tiny bits of metal. But it feels a little harder today, a little more backbreaking. All I can think about is the treasure. I imagine finding a case of brand-new iPhones – real ones, worth a fortune, not fakes like the ones they sell in Tip Toe Alley in town. Or maybe it’s a holdall stuffed with banknotes, or jewels or nuggets of gold.

  My sack is taking a long, long time to fill.

  Emanuel doesn’t help. First he says he needs to nap cos he was up half the night. So I let him lie in my space in the shack. When I check in an hour, I find he’s gone. All that’s left is chickens and Mr Ghazi’s shovel.

  So that’s it. Guess I’ll never see Emanuel again.

  I spit on the ground. Take a deep breath. Get back to work.

  Yen ko. Let’s go.

  *

  It’s a slow day. I don’t find so much metal cos I can’t really focus. The sack’s hardly half full as the sun begins its downward slope past the smog.

  I carry my sack towards Mr Ghazi’s office. All the smoke makes me choke. A goat walks out in front of me, grazing on anything it can find amongst the rubble. I push past it, still thinking of treasure and tactics and how I’ll kick Emanuel if I ever see him again.

  That’s when Gifty storms up to me. No eggs balanced perfectly on her head today. She has the basket full of water, but all she’s giving me now is the evil eye.

  “Give it back, Theo,” Gifty snarls.

  I stop and shrug. “What?”

  “My savings,” she says. “I need my savings. I can’t be a teacher if I don’t have the money to go to school.” She’s steaming mad, shouting in my face. “I know you saw the money under the floorboard last night. You took it while I was out!”

  “No way!” I shout back.

  “Give it to me now and I won’t tell the police,” Gifty warns me. She grabs me and tries to frisk me, patting at my pockets. “Where is it?”

  I pull away angrily. The next thing I know, Gifty’s grabbed my sack from me. She starts emptying it onto the ground.

  “You’re crazy!” I yell at her. I’m on my knees, scrabbling at the tiny metallic scraps. “I haven’t taken your money. I wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, sure!” Gifty hisses. “Well, what about your friend?”

  “Emanuel?” I snort, stuffing the metal back into my sack. “He left this morning. I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Then it’s him. Oh, God.” Gifty swears and it sounds wrong coming from her lips – she’s normally so kind and patient. “To think I was going to warn that little idiot!”

  I say, “Warn Emanuel about what?”

  And she tells me.

  CHAPTER 6

  Itching and Scratching

  “Sammy came to me again this morning,” Gifty explains. “His room’s being checked by his probation officer and he needs to hide some dodgy stuff.”

  I feel my eyes widen. “Drugs?” I ask.

  “No.” Gifty shakes her head. “Silver, I think. Sammy’s gang steal truckloads of mobile-phone waste and cook it up for the precious metals.” Gifty pauses, looking serious. “I told him to go to hell again.”

  “Maybe Sammy took your money?” I say.

  But Gifty says no – with her eyes and another shake of the head. “We’re family. Even Sammy deals fair with family.” She chews her lip for a moment. “I think Sammy asking again about hiding his stuff was just an excuse. He seemed really interested in where he could find Emanuel.”

  I feel cold despite the sweat on my face. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” I ask.

  “I said I didn’t know,” Gifty says. “Cos I don’t! And then … Sammy told me some more about your friend’s brother, Morgan.”

  She hesitates.

  “What is it?” I push her.

  “Morgan was in Sammy’s gang,” Gifty explains. “He worked as a smelter in a factory that made car parts, so the gang gave him their stolen mobile phones to cook up for the precious metals inside. Morgan secretly stored the metals in the factory until they had enough to sell on. But he ripped his gang off.
He took the gold, silver, palladium and whatever, and told Sammy a rival gang had stolen it. Sammy and his friends hit back at that gang. People got hurt on both sides before they realised Morgan had been lying.”

  Gifty takes a deep breath.

  “Both gangs wanted revenge on Morgan,” she finishes. “He had to disappear.”

  “Two gangs wanting him!” I breathed. “No wonder Morgan left Accra and couldn’t come back for his treasure.”

  “And now Emanuel’s gone too,” says Gifty. “With my money.”

  “I don’t know how to find him,” I tell her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah,” says Gifty, sitting down in the dust. She looks just as broken as everything else in Trashland. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

  I’m still thinking about everything she’s told me. “Sammy must know that Emanuel can tell him where Morgan is,” I say. “So he’ll be trying to get Emanuel, won’t he?”

  “That’s why I wanted to warn him.” Gifty nods. “Gangs like to trade stuff. Like, Sammy might agree to leave Emanuel alone if Morgan tells him where the treasure is.”

  “And if he doesn’t …” I draw a line across my throat, like a knife slitting it.

  “Sammy wouldn’t kill anyone,” says Gifty. But she doesn’t sound like she’s sure.

  I imagine Emanuel locked up someplace, tortured into revealing where his brother is. Locked up in the back of a white panel van. Alone and afraid.

  But something tells me Emanuel won’t need much persuading to spill his brother’s secret.

  “Screw this,” I say, standing up. “I’ve got to take this scrap to Mr Ghazi before he closes up.” I look at Gifty. “You … can share the money I’ll get for it.”

  She snorts. “Half of nothing is still nothing. Didn’t I teach you that already?”

  “Fine,” I hiss. “Go hungry.”

  Gifty looks at me, and her eyes soften. “I’m sorry, Theo,” she says. “That was kind of you. But you need to eat too.”

  I turn and leave Gifty there in the dirt. My eyes feel hot as I walk away. The treasure! It’s so close I can almost feel it in my hands. I feel bad for still wanting it now Emanuel has gone, but I do.